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Thursday, October 30
[Annoying thing #341]posted by pete at 2:52 PMI thought it was such a good find when I purchased my metallic silver briefcase-sized CD carrying case. Of course, now that I've loaded it with discs and, concerned about the weight, rang the airline, it seems there is some doubt as to whether I'll actually be able to take it on board as cabin luggage.
They told me it will depend on who I speak to at check in, ie. if I luck out and get someone lenient. That's the sort of dice game I don't need at the moment, especially since I'll be going to the airport by my lonesome self and therefore will have nobody to give any 'excess luggage' to. The dilemma is made even worse by the fact that I'm supposed to be shipping all my unwanted CDs and empty cases back to Adelaide with Jess tomorrow.
What to do, what to do? I sure as hell don't want to send my CDs in the cargo hold.
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[Wilson's Promontory]posted by pete at 9:50 AMOn a whim, Kate, Brooke, Jess and I decided to do a little weekender down to Wilson’s Promontory.
We set out around lunchtime on Saturday and drove straight into a torrential rainstorm. Much of the roadside scenery was therefore cloaked in mist and thus we were forced to withdraw into our own crazy little worlds… thank goodness we’d brought drinks for the road (but not for our responsible driver Jess).
The hilarious thing about the whole trip was that I never really knew where we were or where we were going.
So we rolled into a place called Foster, found the pub, then organised our accommodation near the entrance to Wilson’s Promontory.
Unfortunately our cabin stank of congealed sheep fat, as if someone had hidden freshly barbecued chops in the wall-mounted heating unit. Obviously the previous occupants had opted for flesh as their evening meal, and had actually forgotten to turn the grill off, which was pumping warmth into the room when we arrived.
Saturday night saw us enjoying a counter meal at the aforementioned pub, whilst taking care to avoid anybody wearing a cricket uniform or openly adjusting inappropriate bits of their anatomy. Look, we’re all rural folk so we know how to approach such situations.
The promontory itself is absolutely beautiful. The entire region is national park and the lovely landscape differs markedly from the more dreary adjacent parts of rural Victoria. I was reminded very much of some of the breathtaking sights I saw in New Zealand, albeit on a MUCH smaller scale here.
Suddenly it was revealed to us that we had all but run out of petrol and thus had to tap into the emergency supply that was thankfully available. They had to unlock the pumps for us. It was also revealed that the road went no further, and all other sights (such as an intriguing lighthouse) could only be reached by walking for about six hours. Needless to say, we are not the type of tourists who would get involved in such strenuous activity (and none of us were wearing cargo pants), so we surveyed the map for 10-minute walks.
Therefore we walked only the trails marked suitable for limited mobility, and then three of us got attacked by a red bird in the car park. I don’t know what that bird’s motives were for landing on Jess and I, sparing Brooke and flying at Kate’s face, but let me tell you there was no symbiotic relationship on offer between us and that demented corella or lorikeet or whatever it was. When the seagulls and ducks wanted in on the action, we left the nearby bemused Japanese tourists to contend with the menace and got the hell out of there.
On the way home we collapsed in a lovely café in a town called Fish Creek. At the end of our meal, the man who served us suggested that we’d been on a psychedelic holiday in search of the region’s magic mushrooms. Why this allegation? Simply because we couldn’t recount any details about where we’d stayed or been. Hey, it was a Sunday afternoon and we were exhausted from the weekend’s activities.
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